I wonder if I’ll ever get the hang of this blogging thing. I had a really nice background on here, but it all disappeared in one quick move of my mouse. My mouse makes a lot of things disappear like that. I’ve stopped wondering how that happens. It’s just another way things seem to happen around here, sorta like train wrecks, but it’s never in slow motion the way they show it in the movies. One second it’s there, then ZAP! it’s gone. Just disappeared. Someday I may stumble over it again–who knows. I stumble over a lot of things.
I stumbled across my blog again today. I literally just moved my little mousie, and there it was. I don’t know if the first blog was ever published, and I don’t know if this one will be, but I do know that I can’t remember the password to it, so if I find it again it will be a minor miracle. I really do believe in miracles. I’ve been trying really hard to download a picture I took a few years ago of a rose bush that was blooming in December. It was a really pretty pink rose, and it had survived only because it was in a sheltered spot. I think we all need a sheltered spot in our lives that we can hide out in when everything just looks like thorns, then on a particularly miserable day, like that one was, the timing will be right for a pretty pink bud to open and show the disbelieving world that there is still some inner beauty in the middle of all the misery.
We’re having some pretty miserable weather right now. Rain following rain following more rain. Gray skies, thunderstorms (which I personally think are great!), and then rain. Not a lot of rain–just enough to make it miserable. And yet, there are places where people need even a few drops of the rain, and here I am complaining! In a month or so I’ll be complaining that we need rain. Funny, isn’t it, that some of us are just never satisfied with what we have. I guess it’s that “The grass is always greener” syndrome . I do hope I spelled that correctly. I came of age during the Kennedy years, and still believe in Camelot.
We had a lot of hope back in the days of Camelot. Then suddenly the world intruded, hope took a back burner, and nothing has ever been quite the same. Except for one thing–I still have hope. Things are happening too fast, the world seems intent on blowing itself up, everything is trying to happen at once, but inside I still have hope. I hope my grandkids will have peace at some time in their lives. I hope to live to know my great-grandkids. I hope someone comes up with a cure for cancer. I even hope that someday I will learn how to use my mousie without making things disappear. But that’s just the way it is with a train wreck–you hope and pray that you will live through it, and that it won’t hurt much.